


Picking Up The Pieces

by HylianEngineer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Building A Home, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Recovery, maybe slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29185011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HylianEngineer/pseuds/HylianEngineer
Summary: Thanos has been defeated, but Earth's mightiest heroes paid a heavy price. They heal, after.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Kudos: 8





	Picking Up The Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the first of  these prompts. "A story entitled 'A New Beginning'." This doesn't have that title because I already used it for something else, but the spirit is here.

After the defeat of Thanos, after returning the stones, after  _ everything _ , Steve Rogers retires. He buys a piece of land outside Nowhere, USA, with a rundown old house and plenty of room. Bucky comes with him of course, with him ‘til the end of the line. The line hasn’t ended yet. As we all know, Steve is impulsive. He didn’t visit the house before buying it, which was, in Bucky’s words, “A damn stupid idea.” The roof leaks, the gate is falling off its hinges, the yard is full of junk, and the porch is definitely a safety hazard. So the first night is spent in a tent on the living room floor. Steve thinks it’s a great adventure and gets nostalgic about their days with the Howling Commandos. Bucky just grounches about how the hard floor makes his back hurt. The next morning they rip out carpet and buy some nice bamboo hardwood to replace it. They pick out furniture from the antique store in the nearest (small) town, slightly creaky wood chairs repainted soft blue, a hideous flower-patterned couch that’s been out of style for several decades. Bucky builds a dining room table from the remains of the porch, which is replaced by simple concrete steps. The meticulously placed mismatched containers disappear one by one as the leaks above them are patched. Before long, the house is liveable, if not exactly nice.

Then Natasha shows up. It’s late evening, and Steve and Bucky are sitting at the kitchen table sketching plans for their farm, when there’s a knock on the door. 

The supersoldiers freeze. No one is supposed to know they’re here, no one but Sam, who has their contact information and strict instructions never to turn up unannounced unless the world is literally ending.

Bucky motions for Steve to flank him as he draws the pistol he keeps for emergencies on the mantle. With a nod, Steve yanks the door open.

“Hey. Can I come in?”

On their doorstep is Natasha. She’s dressed in civilian clothes, casual flannel and jeans, hair in a simple ponytail, which is unusual enough, but the most disturbing thing is the way she carries herself. Her posture is weary, her face is pale and gaunt, and from the look in her eyes it’s clear recent events still haunt her. There’s a long moment of silence as the trio regard each other.

Finally, Bucky reins in his shock. “God, Nat, of course you can! What the hell happened to you?!”

She levels him with a glare, the effect only slightly diminished by the purple bruising under her eyes. “Could ask you the same thing, Barnes, but I think we all know the answer. Let’s not waste time repeating ourselves.”

“Yeah, alright. Sit down, I’ll make some cocoa.”

At 2am, Natasha wakes up screaming. She is falling, falling, falling, and then she wakes with the taste of blood in her mouth. She can still feel the crack of her skull against stone, the senseless agony of every bone in her body shattering. She’s gasping for air, choking on the sobs forcing their way up her throat, and then someone’s sitting on the couch beside her, their arms are wrapped around her. Warm, real, human. Steve. 

“Shh, Nat, you’re alright, shh, shh, it’s over, you’re safe.”

She wraps herself around him and clings like he’s the only thing keeping her from floating away, gradually becoming aware of his heartbeat and the clattering sounds in the kitchen she knows must be Bucky. Steve whispers sweet nothings in her ear until her breathing slows and the feeling of shattering is… not gone, never gone, but distant. 

When she’s done falling apart, Bucky appears in the doorway with three steaming mugs of tea on a wooden tray, and a heavy quilt draped over his metal arm. The three of them camp out on the living room floor that night.


End file.
